The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(4)

“Oh, well, thank you. But I expect I’ll manage; it’s not that much really.”

“I’d like to help; it’s great having you back.”

I was nonplussed by his offer and his comment, although part of me acknowledged it would be useful to have someone to do all the carrying. No, he had studying to do, it wouldn’t be fair.

Over his shoulder I saw Donald Hunter stalking toward us and a shiver ran through me: he looked furious.

My expression must have alerted Sebastian because he turned to see what had caught my attention.

“Your mother says you were at the beach again this morning,” barked Sebastian’s father, without preamble. He gripped Sebastian’s arm, spinning him around to face his wrath.

Sebastian blanched. “Yes, but…”

“I fucking warned you what I’d do if you did that again when you should be studying.”

I was utterly shocked that even this foul man would speak to his son like that in front of me, a virtual stranger.

“Dad, I…”

“Quiet!” he snarled.

People were staring. And I was caught in a horrifying paralysis, unable to tear my eyes from this nasty little family drama.

“You can kiss your surfboard goodbye—and no more beach. No son of mine is going to waste his life being a beach bum.”

Sebastian tugged his arm free and faced down his father.

“I studied in the afternoon, Dad. And I paid for that surfboard; I worked for it. It’s mine. You can’t touch it.”

Donald’s face turned an ugly puce, and I thought he was going to hit his son. At the last second he recollected himself.

“This isn’t over,” he hissed, then marched away.

Sebastian stared at the ground, humiliation and anger vying for dominance on his face.

I felt terribly guilty; this was all my fault.

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian,” I whispered. “I had no idea…” My words trailed off lamely.

He shook his head. “He’s just an asshole. I really hate him. I can’t wait to leave home,” he said, fiercely. “The sooner the better.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I just nodded sympathetically. After all, hadn’t I left as soon as I could to get away from my mother? I fished around desperately for a change of topic, but my brain was unwilling to cooperate. Donna returned quickly, looking suitably irritated at Donald’s outburst. Such bad manners, I could see the thought flickering across her face.

“Can I refresh your glass, Caroline?”

Without realizing it, I’d downed the cocktail already.

“Oh, yes, thank you.”

“Sebastian, more soda?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Vorstadt,” he muttered, then left abruptly, his expression mortified.

Donna shook her head. “That poor boy. What he has to put up with.”

“Is his father always like that?” I was still shocked.

Clearly the answer was ‘yes’ but Donna didn’t want to commit herself to anything too definite—or damning.

“Oh, well, Donald is Donald. I’m sure you must remember.”

I stared after Sebastian, recalling other instances of Donald’s bullying from when his son was a boy. I was amazed Sebastian hadn’t turned into a monster himself. He seemed just as gentle and sweet as when I’d known him all those years ago.

The rest of the evening passed with uninteresting small talk, as usual. I stayed away from Estelle and Donald; Sebastian seemed to have disappeared, and David and I ignored each other, as usual.

I was relieved when he decided it was the right time to return home.





CHAPTER 2



The next morning the damn crates hadn’t miraculously unpacked themselves. I was staring at them with antipathy when I heard a car pull up.

Donna Vorstadt stepped out of her new Chevy and waved when she saw me.

“Hello, Caroline, dear, I thought I’d just come and see how you’re settling in. Goodness, I think you’ve got your work cut out there.”

She smiled, commiserating, and I warmed to her a little more.

“Have you got time for a cup of coffee, Donna?”

I didn’t usually feel the need to socialize with the wives of my husband’s fellow officers, but she seemed genuine, and I still knew how to follow some of the niceties of Base behavior.

“Sure, that would be great.”

I realized too late that the breakfast dishes were still scattered across the counter. Oh well, I’d blown my chance of pretending I was perfect.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Just the cream. Do you have skim milk?”

I cleared a space, and we sat down to drink our coffees.

“So, how are you settling in? It’s a pain moving, isn’t it?”